


There's Only One Bed

by tastethewaste



Category: Rocketman (2019) RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M, cuddling boys, nothing but fluff, there's only one bed!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-19 01:15:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22302892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastethewaste/pseuds/tastethewaste
Summary: Taron and Richard have to share a bed for the night...
Relationships: Taron Egerton/Richard Madden
Comments: 6
Kudos: 70





	There's Only One Bed

Richard didn’t think he would ever get over the sight of New York City lit up at night, the way every building glowed, the billboards, the flashing signs. It was by no means the first ‘big city’ he’d ever been in, but it always felt different, every time he was here.  _ He  _ always felt different, always felt waves of potential washing over him whenever he came here; he couldn’t explain it. He tucked his legs up to his chest and circled his arms around them, relaxing into the sofa and just staring out the large picture window in his hotel room. 

He knew he should get some rest, big day tomorrow. It was why he’d begged off of going out with Taron that evening, to get some rest, and yet here he was, up later than he’d expected, looking out at the evening. He could hardly believe he was here. He could hardly believe this was his life. He was a dreamer, Richard was, and this was all he’d dreamed of for years. He’d made it, and he could still hardly believe it. 

He was so focused on what he was thinking about that the unexpected loud knocking that came on his door made him nearly fall off the couch in surprise. He looked over at the door to his suite, hoping that it was just somebody lost on their way back to their own room. A moment later, as if the person on the other side of the door could read his mind, the loud knocking rang out again. 

“Oy, Rich, it’s me, open up, for the love of God!” 

What the hell was Taron doing outside his room at half past 11? 

Richard pushed himself off the sofa and padded over to the door, yanking it open and immediately biting the inside of his cheek to try to stifle his laughter. Taron stood in front of him, soaking wet and scowling. His white t-shirt clung to his body, leaving little to the imagination; his green plaid flannel pajama pants were similarly wet, pasted to his legs and unleashing little rivulets of water that drip-dropped onto the hotel floor. Richard finally lost the battle of not laughing as a short, sharp guffaw burst forth from his mouth. Taron looked positively ridiculous. 

“D’you think you could continue laughing at me after I come inside?” Taron asked, a slight edge to his voice and his scowl deepening. Richard chuckled and stepped aside, allowing his dripping wet mate into the suite, barely registering that Taron was carting his suitcase with him.

“What the hell happened to you?” Richard asked, shutting the door and throwing the lock. Taron wrung his t-shirt out on the floor, leaving a puddle at his feet. 

“The fucking fire sprinklers in my room started going off and wouldn’t stop! Everything’s soaked, and they can’t figure out what’s wrong. The hotel’s fully booked because of the premiere so they can’t move me anywhere, but I told them I could stay with a friend. Is that alright?” Taron asked, looking up and finally meeting Richard’s eyes. His stomach did the briefest of backflips, the way it always did when T’s eyes met his own, and he tried, again, to push it away. 

“‘Course you can stay here, no worries,” Rich said, offering up a smile and waving him inside. “You’re always welcome.” 

Taron chuckled. “Well, we won’t be here for long, Dickie, but I certainly appreciate the sentiment. I’m having a shower.” Taron dug through his suitcase briefly and loped off towards the bathroom, clean, dry clothes in hand. Richard resisted the urge to follow him. 

It wasn’t until Taron had already been in the shower for several moments that it occurred to Richard that there was only one bed in the suite. 

Their hotel was ostensibly fancier than many, and the sofa he’d been casually lounging on when Taron had knocked on the door- _ the way that t-shirt had clung to his body, good Lord _ , Richard thought-didn’t pull out into a sleeper. He checked just to be sure, but found nothing but couch springs underneath the cushions. He supposed he could sleep on the sofa, but it was dreadful uncomfortable simply to lie on…

In the middle of his contemplation, Taron emerged from the bathroom, backlit by the fluorescent lighting and releasing a rolling fog of steam from inside. He was clad in nothing but a tight-fitting black t-shirt and a matching pair of underwear, and he looked completely comfortable in himself, as though it was nothing in the world for him to show up at Richard’s hotel suite in the middle of the evening, take a shower, and emerge with no pants on. 

“Forget your pants?” Rich asked, thanking whatever God was up there that his voice hadn’t trembled on any of the words, giving away his nerves. 

“I’ve no dry sleep pants, and who cares? It’s just us,” Taron said with a simple shrug, and Richard marveled at the way he could just make any situation, no matter what it was, seem simple. Taron rubbed a towel through his short hair, drying it off a bit. “What’re you doing awake, eh? You bailed on going out with me tonight so I thought I’d find you all curled up and asleep.”

Richard shrugged, the tiniest blush rising to his cheeks. “I was just about to when you knocked.” 

Taron ambled over to him, dropping the towel on the floor as he went. “Dickie needs his beauty rest before the premiere tomorrow?” he teased, pinching Richard’s cheek just slightly.

Rich resisted the urge to grab Taron by the hips, drag him close, bite his lower lip. God, he was just so pretty, Taron was, and cheeky, and lovely. Where the hell was his head going tonight? 

Richard cleared his throat, tried to think of dreadful topics to keep his mind from going where it was going. “Well, we have a tiny problem. There’s only one bed in here, and this sofa doesn’t pull out. It’s uncomfortable but I could sleep on it and you could take the bed,” he offered. 

Taron looked at the bed, then at the sofa, then back at the bed before looking up at Richard. “We can both sleep in the bed, looks like there’s room,” he said, gesturing towards the queen size bed. Richard’s stomach did a significantly stronger backflip than normal. 

“Both of us in the bed?” Richard asked, mentally kicking himself for stuttering over the words. “The _ same bed _ ?” 

Taron laughed and stretched, his t-shirt riding up ever-so-slightly and showing his tummy. “Yes, the same bed. Do you have a problem with that?” 

Richard shook his head quickly and furiously, too quickly, too furiously. He ran his hands through his hair, feeling a blush rise to his cheeks again. “No, no problem. There’s plenty of room.” 

Taron started to turn down the covers on what he’d decided would be  _ his _ side of the bed, chuckling all the while. “I mean, we’ve rolled around naked for hours on camera before. I think we can manage to catch a good night’s rest in the same bed for one evening.” 

“Shut up, you cheeky bastard,” Rich said, turning down his side and crawling in, pretending to play it cool. He had no doubt that Taron could tell how nervous he was, though, if the wry grin on his face was any indication as he hopped into the bed, too. Richard snuggled down deep under the covers, keeping himself as still as possible, staying as close to the edge of the bed as possible. He was acutely aware of himself, of his body, of the space he occupied. He’d never been more nervous yet excited at the same time, or more tense. Taron looked over at him, the grin still on his face, before going, “Oh,” and hopping out of bed to turn the lights off. He hopped right back in, just as gracefully. 

Richard felt himself instantly relax with the lights off, even though the bright lights of the city below them meant the room wasn’t completely dark. The light bled through the thin curtains that Richard hadn’t drawn all the way, and he looked up and found Taron gazing at him. He was still smiling, but it was less of a teasing smile and one of...fondness, if Richard wasn’t misreading things. 

“What?” Richard asked, the near-darkness, the closeness making him whisper. “Why are you looking at me?” 

“I like looking at you,” Taron whispered back, and Rich couldn’t tell completely, but he thought there might be some pink to Taron’s cheeks. 

Richard felt a wave of boldness crash over him, and he whispered back, “I like looking at you, too.” 

Taron nodded slightly, and said, “I’m nervous about tomorrow.” 

“Why?” 

“I don’t know. It’s not like we haven’t done it before. I just..the more we do this, the more I think this film could really be something, Rich, y’know? I know we haven’t made the next...I don’t know,  _ Forrest Gump _ or something, but this film could really resonate with people. I think it will. We’ve made something special, and the people it touches are going to be grateful for it. It just adds some pressure, I suppose.” Taron shrugged a little, his eyes gazing off across the room, lost in thought. 

Richard bit his lower lip and looked at Taron. “My favorite thing about you is how passionate you are. I’ve never seen anyone put so much of themselves into a role. If this movie is something special, it’s because of you.”

Taron’s eyes moved back onto Richard’s. “Thanks,” he said softly, and the two lapsed into quiet. The only sound was the muffled noise of cars rushing by on the streets below, and the slow even breathing of both of them. Richard felt his anxieties quell, the backflips in his belly still, his entire body fall calm. An hour ago he’d been ruminating on this life he got to live, and if you’d asked him how sharing a bed with Taron would make him feel, he wouldn’t have said calm. 

That’s what he felt, though. He felt calm and content. In any other situation, it would’ve been weird for he and Taron to just look at each other, but that was what they were doing and it felt like the most natural thing in the world. Finally, after what felt like ages, Taron broke the silence. 

“Thanks for letting me stay over,” he said quietly, and (with a slightly shaking hand, Rich noticed), Taron reached out and touched Richard’s face, stroking the soft pad of his thumb over Richard’s cheek. Richard breathed in deeply, his heart fluttering in his chest. 

“What are you doing?” he whispered, and Taron drew his hand away like he’d been burned. 

“I just--I’m sorry,” he said quietly. It was one of the few times he’d ever seen Taron nervous; the boy was perpetually sunny and confident. Richard drew on a small well of strength, and reached out and grabbed Taron’s hand. He laced their fingers together and squeezed gently. 

“Don’t be sorry,” Richard said, and Taron nodded, reaching his hand out again after letting go of Richard’s to stroke his face again. 

“Rich, I...can I…” Taron muttered, and he tilted his face towards Richard’s and kissed him, so gently that it was almost as if it didn’t happen, his lips just lightly brushing the other man’s. It was enough, though. It was enough to wake them both up, to send tiny zaps of electricity traveling down their spines. Rich wriggled closer to Taron, ungraceful in his need to be closer to the man he was sharing a bed with. Taron leaned his forehead against Richard’s, casting his eyes downward, unable to look at him. 

“I’ve liked you for a while,” Taron confessed, his voice husky with the quiet and desperation of the words he was expressing. Taron was not a nervous person, and yet, the idea of confessing to Richard what he’d been feeling for so long was...maddening and terrifying. He couldn’t stand the idea of being vulnerable like this and being shot down. 

Richard reached out and tilted Taron’s face up, so he was looking directly into his ocean blue eyes. “I’ve liked you, too,” he said softly, and that was enough to break the spell of the gentle calm between them. Taron’s lips were on his, deep, powerful, almost aggressive, and he was answering back just as strongly. Their teeth clashed together and their bodies curved in towards each other. Richard ran his hands up Taron’s shirt, gripping the other man’s hips and dragging him closer; their legs twined together and in the back of Richard’s mind, he thought of how similar this was in some ways to the scene they’d filmed together. Taron bit down on his lower lip and Rich moaned, lightly. 

They rutted against each other like a couple of teenagers, and Richard thought that he hadn’t felt anything so good in ages. They kissed with no expectations, with wild abandon, and when it was done, it was done. Taron took Richard in his arms and Richard nuzzled into him, curving his body towards Taron and tucking himself in neatly. He laid his head against the soft cotton of Taron’s t-shirt and Taron dropped a kiss absent-mindedly on the top of Richard’s head. Their breathing was synced up, both of them breathing rather heavily, and he was warm. He felt safe, and seen, and known. 

“You are exceptional,” Taron whispered after a moment’s silence, and Rich knew in his heart that his words weren’t referring to anything physical they had just done. He knew, somehow, that Taron was referring to him as a person, not just his body, and he could’ve cried. 

\-------

Morning came, as it always does, sunlight filtering in through the room. The alarm that Richard had set prior to Taron’s arrival blared, rousing both of them unpleasantly from the warm, comforting sleep they’d been enjoying. Richard was still curved into Taron, their legs entwined and his hand on Taron’s belly. He rolled over and smacked the alarm clock as hard as he could, silencing the annoying sound. 

Taron stretched and let out a low moan, opening his eyes and blinking sleepily. A slow smile spread across his face as he looked at Richard, who smiled back at him. Now that it was light out and the day had come, if you’d asked Richard if the night before had happened, he might not have been able to answer yes. He couldn’t be sure, it had been so gentle and like the answer to a long-wanted dream he’d been having. 

“Morning, sunshine,” Taron said, sleep still clouding his voice. Richard grinned. 

“Mornin’.” 

“Ready for today?” Taron asked, kissing Richard softly and enjoying the pink flush that rose to Richard’s cheeks. 

“Suppose, I’ll have you there to keep me calm,” Richard said cheekily. Taron nodded and rolled out of bed. 

“I guess I should head back to my room, hair and makeup are going to meet me there soon-ish. But we could have breakfast first, if you want?” Taron said, finding his old crumpled pants on the floor and pulling them on.

“Breakfast would be nice,” Richard said, getting out of bed himself and then stopping short. “Hold on, you can’t meet them there, your room is flooded, isn’t it?” 

Taron froze, a delightfully evil grin spreading onto his face. “Well, the thing is…”

Richard’s one eyebrow shot up quizzically. “The thing is…?” 

“I was thinking about you last night after you bailed on me and I was feeling bold so I…” He trailed off lightly.

Richard sighed. “Taron.”

“Okay, okay. I sort of made up the story about my room being flooded so I could come see you,” Taron said, a tiny laugh slipping out. 

Richard couldn’t help but smile, seeing how clearly pleased Taron was with himself. “You made it up?” he asked incredulously. 

“Well, yeah,” Taron said, shrugging his shoulders. 

“Why didn’t you just...text me, or come by?” Richard asked. 

“I didn’t think you wanted me to, I don’t know, I was nervous,” Taron babbled, blushing just a bit. Richard went over to him and impulsively pulled Taron into his arms, pressing their bodies against each other. Richard kissed Taron’s temple gently. 

“I wanted you to. Promise,” Richard murmured and Taron snuggled into him briefly. After a few moments, Taron reluctantly pushed himself away. 

“Alright. Really have to get going unfortunately, I don’t think we can do breakfast. I’ll see you soon,” Taron said, kissing Richard softly and turning to leave. 

“One last thing, Taron?” Richard called, and Taron paused with his hand on the doorknob. 

“Yes, love?” Taron asked. 

“If your room wasn’t really flooded...then how’d you get sopping wet before you came over here?” 

“Oh, that. Well, I got in the shower with my clothes on, obviously,” Taron said, shrugging and waving before exiting the room, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. 

_ He’s mad _ , Richard thought. Then, he smiled to himself.  _ And he’s mine. _

**Author's Note:**

> This was my spin on the oft-used trope of the characters having to share a bed because there's only one ;) Hope you enjoyed, thanks for reading :)


End file.
